Boundless Journey
by Kisuru-chan
Summary: When a young Spark comes across a Persian, he makes it his mission to understand the Persian's sadness and help it move on. Themes of mourning. Some ambiguity.


**A/N:** Written as a Yuletide 2016 gift for kyjin.

* * *

The pen scribbled across the page. Each line and column went vertically or horizontally across both sides of the notebook. Spark's attention is rigidly focused.

Spark stood next to the mouth of an abandoned alleyway. Information on the Muk near one of the trash cans Spark has just gathered neatly filled out all of the columns. Check—Muk enjoyed human leftovers like sweets.

Spark shook his head. He looked towards the white sky.

No, exploring the back areas of the city was not the most thrilling of adventures, but sometimes he witnessed something exciting even in a rag-tag area like this one. The eating patterns of some Pokemon were still an elusive mystery to him. Muk were a definite discovery beyond anything else, though— _what_ exactly were those sludge Pokemon made out of!? Just like that, everything Spark discovers is immediately recorded in his trusty notebook.

Nobody could ever say Spark was shy. At least nobody would accuse him of shyness when exploration was the name of his favorite game. Spark loved to stick his nose around places his parents constantly scolded him for.

Such was the fate of his parents traveling for routine business. Instead of leaving him back in his hometown, Spark had volunteered to tag along. It would be boring, his parents had warned him time and time again while he had packed his bags. But what was boring about traveling!?

Spark had made the best choice of his young life!

Every day, Spark always visited a new place and explored the city limits or Pokemon's hangouts. It fascinated him to see their varied habitats. Before he became a trainer, Spark promised himself, he would learn many new things. Soon, he would reach the age able to certify a license as a trainer. It would be the proudest moment of his life.

Today, Spark had pinned his "research grounds" to the current city his parents had brought him to. As far as the mountains towered in the distance, dull greenery peeked out from under a carpet of snowdrift in the vast expanse of rural land outside the city. Mist clouded the peaks of those faraway mountains. Snowflakes lightly fluttered down in fuzzy freefalls, not quite heavy but fluffy and round.

Suddenly, the grumble of his own stomach alerted him to another problem. Spark paused on the sidewalk.

"I should get something to eat. I haven't eaten since this morning," he realized, frowning at the reminder.

Spark reached into his pocket. He fumbled for the small wallet inside. His clunky orange gloves blocked his way, but when he finally managed to wrestle it out of its cavern he checked the amount inside to see what he could get.

His parents usually gave him a decent allowance. Never too much to spoil him. The money was always enough to grab a nice meal from one of the local vendors, catch a movie, or even buy a souvenir from one of the shops.

One day, his parents said, he would earn plenty of money and explore the world all by himself as a Pokemon trainer.

When that day came, he would be over the moon.

The mouthwatering scents of bread and meat wafted from somewhere off to his left. Spark's legs began to carry him towards it, enticed with the crispy and grilled taste of fish.

"I think I want to go that restaurant I just passed—"

A swirl of wind whipped past him. The weight of the wallet disappeared in an instant. Dumbfounded, Spark blinked in astonishment. He stared at the glittering festive blue lights on one of the trees planted along the sidewalk.

Spark had imagined that. Because, no, Spark refused to believe that he might have been robbed.

He glanced down at his hand to double check.

As he had thought, the wallet was gone like thin air.

The notebook fell from his hands, and the crunch of the snow beneath his feet was enough to jolt him out of his disbelief. He jumped at the echo of scampering paws behind him. He dived for the notebook, snatching it against his chest. Cheeks puffed out in determination.

How dare whoever had done this. That was his!

"Hey!" Spark glanced to find the culprit. Even though it was dark, he could see perfectly well on the lit street. A beige tail disappeared into an alley. "That's mine!"

Lungs bursting, Spark chased after the thief. He zigzagged across the street (from the corner of his eye only just watching the cars) and hurried on. He had been far too focused to even notice the theft; he grit his teeth, feeling foolish. Eating dinner would be impossible now.

Spark entered the alleyway, panting, sneakers loud on the snow with each harsh step. More trash cans and litter scattered under the thin snowfall. But here—Spark could see the faint outline of gnarly pawprints leading to the exit on the other side of the alleyway. He continued to run.

"Stop! What are you doing!?"

Spark arrived just in time to spot a man tumble to the ground in front of an open van. Full of multicolored flowers, the view inside the van was quite breathtaking. At first, it the only thing Spark paid attention to, marveling at the bright and somber colors potted together.

Leaning forward, Spark panted and tried to gather the specifics of the situation before approaching. A stout woman in a red dress and wool scarf and mittens held a small parasol for the snow. She pointed the parasol at the Pokemon in front of her as if that little persuasion would render the thief helpless and retrieve her money.

The woman's hand shook viciously nonetheless. "That's my purse, you filthy feline! Brute!"

Persian glared at her without remorse. It held both Spark's wallet and the woman's purse in its mouth, teeth sunk deep in the fabric to keep a good grip on its prizes. It eyed Spark as he approached but did not seem fazed.

"You can't just steal my belongings," the woman hissed again. She stomped towards the Persian without any regard for safety or protocol, brand name furry boots threatening like thunder against the pavement. "Now give it back to me, kitty, and I'll let this go today—"

Spark winced. If there was one thing he could have told her, Persian was _not_ to be messed with unless a claw mark was the goal. And she was begging for that.

Persian's golden eyes burned like liquid fire. It growled low in its throat, tail swishing back and forth before raising up. Bolting at her, Spark was just time to push her out of the way as the Persian charged. He plunged downward and landed with a hard landing directly on the curb's edge.

A sharp pain welled up on his arm. The chilly air touched his skin. The swift ooze of blood fell on his shirt; the Persian's Scratch attack had hit true. Rubbing his head, Spark sat up and examined it. The cut was nothing too horrible. Only a hairline cut worthy of a small bandage.

When Spark noticed his surroundings, Persian was gone.

For the second time, he found his notebook and held it close to his chest protectively. He lost the pen. In the larger scheme of things, that was a minor detail. More importantly, Spark remembered the Persian's smoldering expression, the ferocity and gracefulness on its face.

The Persian had not merely been a poacher of money, but the cat Pokemon had been peerless in its own pride.

Something had been off…

Enraged, the woman stalked off down the street to another storefront, mumbling profanities under her breath.

The attendant for the van laughed awkwardly behind Spark and shrugged. He stood up and dusted himself off. Seeing Spark, he held out a hand to help him to his feet.

"Another customer, huh…" The man sighed. He shook his head sadly, gaze following Persian's unknown direction.

Spark finally made out the name on the van. _Rei's Flowers Shop_. Once again, Spark was captivated by the hearty, lemony fragrance of beautiful flowers crowding van.

"Another customer?" Spark asked.

Coming fully to his senses, Spark clutched his fists. The nerve of that Persian—what did it think it was, stealing so blatantly? Now he would get in trouble with his parents… If he told his parents, anyway. He sometimes got in trouble for being clumsy, but… Now his parents would think he dropped the wallet instead of losing it. "That Persian stole my money. That was all the money my parents gave me."

Rei nodded and put his arms behind his head. He pushed the bangs in front of his eyes, black hair shadowing the tired black lines under his eyes. "You see, that Persian's made my little shop here its hotspot. Always tries to steal my flowers out of here for some reason. My family owns a flower shop. Usually, it's not a good idea to sell flowers outside, but the van's interior is heated and moist. People always enjoy buying flowers when they're shopping for the holidays. It rakes in a good profit for us." He leaned inside and inhaled the sweet scent of a bouquet of perfectly fresh red roses. "And since I battle it off that Persian with my Pokemon before it gets in here, it eventually got smarter and started to steal the money off my customers."

Flowers? What would a Pokemon need with flowers—or, a better question would be, what a Persian would need with money. Didn't Persian have a money-making attack?

Spark had heard that on a documentary once. Meowth and Persian had an attack called "Pay Day" that scattered money after a Pokemon battle. Maybe it was a myth.

Spark had learned something after all! Hurriedly, he opened his notebook. Automatically, he reached into his pocket for his pen—oh, his backup, how handy—and started to jot down another column. He titled it "Persian's Attacks" and wrote that battle money was a big lie.

Rei peered over his shoulder. Seeing what Spark was writing, he chuckled, gruff and good-natured. "You're really the studious type, aren't ya, kid? That's nice to see."

Spark's cheeks reddened. No, it was not only the cold. He forgot that he was hurting under the praise. "A little…"

Rei seemed to notice, however, and his eyebrow lifted. "Ah, it got you. It's a nasty Persian." He retreated to his supplies and pulled out a handy first aid kit. "Got into the habit of bringin' this whenever I come out nowadays."

Spark wiped the cut off with a cloth and carefully applied the bandage. On top of his dinner, now he may need a new jacket. Tonight was becoming a test of his luck.

"How long has the Persian been doing this?" Spark asked, honestly curious. Some reason had to be behind this.

Rei tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe two weeks give or take I've never seen that Persian here before, either."

"Never?" Spark felt compelled to write this as well in his notebook. He titled this column "Mysterious Persian" and made five lines under it. "That's really weird."

"Totally weird," Rei agreed. "And it really hasn't been the best of times for a Persian to go around stealin' people's money from me. Recently, the town's been a bit down after an incident that happened this past summer. It's the first holiday season my family will have to remember."

Expression vacant, Rei watched the twirling snowflakes fall above Spark's head. The bouquet of roses in his hands fell into the crook of his arm. Under the light of the glittering holiday lights a tear glistened under his eye.

A bit stunned, Spark was lost for words.

Spark opened and closed his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Something in Rei's tone did not ask for him to ask personal questions of a modest florist family. Spark could only understand it was something deep that the little city could feel at the core of its roots, a kind of bitter sadness deeper than the claw cut sliced into his skin. 

* * *

Explaining things to his parents was much easier than anticipated. His mother was strict but not upset, and his father always believed he had a good reason to say whatever he wanted to say, so no trust forgotten.

Trust issues were never that big of a deal. Maybe Spark worried about his clumsiness too much for it to be real.

Judging by his parents' tone of voice, though, they had not completely ruled out the possibility he dropped the wallet.

Couldn't his clumsiness be ignored? Just this once?

Spark never caught a break.

The flower van was not the first or last time he saw the Persian. Not by a long shot. In the next few days his parents would leave, so he had to figure this out. Nothing about the Persian should concern him. But it did.

Spark was not a detective. He really did not have to be one, either. All he wanted was the Persian and everyone in the city to be happy again! Was that so much to ask?

The Persian earned a special section in his notebook. Spark colored in a picture of it and labeled all sorts of traits he found out about it—brash, resentful, and snarky. No, that was not much to go on. From what he had looked up on the Internet, Persian was naturally feisty. It was a cat Pokemon personality thing. Persian was lofty and sneaky, and trainers usually could not handle them.

But Spark could never quite shake the insistence that something was just… _wrong_ … even if none of the locals seemed to know this Persian or where it had come from. He felt the worry blossom in his stomach and branch out to the rest of his body, squeezing at lungs like a rope.

Each time he spotted the Persian he noticed desperation. It was as if the Persian gracefully tap-danced in pain. He saw something like that whenever the Persian dodged people and scampered off to the darkness, surrendering to loneliness. Its gem glowed in brittle fury.

The local Officer Jenny had tried to capture it, of course. But the Persian always evaded her and her Growlithe.

As Rei had said, the Persian had smartened up and changed its tactics. Sometimes it would go after different parts of town, or then it wouldn't take as much money.

That in itself told Spark about the Persian's behavior. It was not a bad or evil troublemaker. In fact, the Persian reminded him of himself—the Persian was just like how he got himself in bad fixes and everyone around him laughed at his mistakes. This Persian was misunderstood.

The Persian never looked triumphant or happy. But it had a real purpose, and Spark wanted to know what that was. 

* * *

Herds of back alley Ratatta and Ekans could be extremely persuasive, Spark found. Hearing the news about the Persian some of them had grown bolder. Food rampages appeared on the local news, but these Pokemon were thwarted much easier than the Persian's ploys.

Either way, Spark wrote all this down. Pokemon could be motived by other Pokemon in the worst ways. Go figure.

What was that, anyway? Were they following some kind of feeling that lead to them to follow their own desires?

"So delicious!" Spark smiled to himself, thoroughly pleased one evening. Ever since the Persian had mugged him the first time around this area, he had been especially careful with his allowance. He deserved a special treat after working so hard on all of his assignments—homeschool could be hectic on the road. He nibbled at the edge of his crepe and savored the blueberry filling. "These are amazing. Maybe I can convince mom and dad to come back to that restaurant tomorrow before we leave…"

At the corner of his eye, Spark caught the sight of something in the window. He paused and admired the various Poke Balls and gadgets inside. A display had everything a trainer could have ever wanted from mountain climbing gear to hats and Pokemon food. Spark grinned like a maniac, eyes wide and awestruck.

"Pokemon gear!" He pulled the paper further down on his crepe and took another bite. He could barely contain himself. "Look at how cool how all of that is. I've never seen a Poke Ball like that!" His spirits dwindled not too long after. "Too bad I spent my money on food. But I can look! This is something I should do for sure, look around at all the cool Pokemon gear and trainer goods!"

Weirdly, he then noticed it—the picture of a female trainer.

A picture in the window of a beautiful girl with glossy long black hair and shimmering blue eyes stared down at him. She smiled invitingly and gentle. She sported many of the items inside and held a Great Ball above her waist where other Poke Balls rested on her belt. She pointed inside the store. Candles illuminated her face like an anniversary photo. A note in bold letters was stickied under her name.

Spark leaned in closer, ready to read the caption. But as he did he came to a halt and whipped around on the toes of his feet. The crepe shook in his hands with the motion.

He pointed at the ground. "You!"

Persian did not look at him. It continued to stare up at the beautiful girl. Eyes somber, its face pressed up against the glass. Persian did not respond to him immediately.

Spark's nerves stood on end. He had scoured the entire city to find this Persian. And now it was just… _standing_ there so causally. Window shopping. Did it plan to steal more money? What was it doing here right now?

Still on stand-by, Spark stepped back. The Persian did not react. Its ears lowered closer to its head, tail on the ground. Snowflakes fell on its nose and gem. It did not blink.

What was this about, seriously?

It was dangerous. But Spark honestly did not know what else to do. He reached for the Persian, hoping to reassure it or give it a hand. Persian looked positively distraught.

Persian instantly leapt back. It hissed at him. Its tail shot up towards the sky, fur prickling at its ends. In a flash, the Persian snapped at him; to shield himself, Spark chucked the crepe at the Persian. It swallowed it in one gulp.

Once again, the Persian was off running. Panicking, Spark followed after it. This was his last chance—he had to find out what the problem was this time or he would regret it!

Quick. Brutally quick. Persian's path swayed in every direction to shake him off; it darted around cars in the street. The cars swerved, and Spark waved in apology, making sure he watched out for being hit himself (he was so responsible!). But Spark was having none of that nonsense. Spark was The Lightning, the king of making everything happen when he was dead set on it like a jolt of lightning straight to the heart. No one would tell him he would be lost in this chase! Not even this Persian.

Eventually, the Persian led him past the city lights. Not out of the city, though. He frowned and looked around to find himself on darker streets. He reached into his pocket and held onto his pocket journal for comfort. Wherever he went that journal was his guardian, telling him that he had to keep on moving on and keep working hard. He had to research all the possibilities before he easily gave up.

The Persian disappeared behind some bushes. Crunches of snow and twigs signaled its escape. Spark, in a leap of speed, pushed aside the bushes until he was on the other side. An open field of snow met his sights. He blinked at the bleak landscape, baffled, searching for Persian.

"Persian, why did you—"

Something hard and heavy hit his foot. Spark scrambled to catch onto the bushes behind him. But it was no use. He stumbled down on the snow. The wind rushed out of his lungs, and Spark gasped, mouth full of freezing snow.

Spark groaned. "Ow… that really hurt."

Sitting up, Spark brushed the snow off. He shook the water out of his sandy hair and coughed up the snow. The air was cold, and he was hungry, but the Persian instantly shot back up to his main priorities. Where had it gone?

"What did I trip over, anyway?" It was an easy question.

Spark put his hand on the ground—or, at least, he was supposed to put it on the dirt and snow. That same hard thing touched his hand. It was sleek and slippery. Bronze.

Heart pounding, Spark brushed off the snow. And he saw it. A name. The dates. Slashes in between the dates signaled a particular beginning and ending. His eyes widened a little. He realized what this was right away.

Spark did not have to look long for Persian. Several rows away, Persian had curled itself into a ball, watching him with predatory eyes. He maneuvered a path through the rows of markers and marched as close as he could to the Persian. Persian growled at him, throaty and brutal, but Spark put up his hands in a friendly gesture. He stopped walking to see why the Persian was where it was.

Persian's head was close to another grave marker. Even at his distance, he could see that the engraved name and date were not as withered away as the others here.

"Is that…" Spark swallowed thickly. Buzzes rang in his ears, and his nerves twisted, but he understood. "Is that someone close to you?" He paused. "Your trainer?"

Who else would it be? Another friend? It was likely, but… Only a trainer had such a bond strong with a Pokemon.

Persian did not react. He laid its head down again. This time Persian was not hostile, but it looked as if it would spring and defend its turf at a moment's notice.

Relaxing a bit, Spark approached. Still nothing. He inched as far as he could until he stood next to Persian. From under the snow, he could see something bright yellow.

"That's my wallet!" Spark bent to grab it on reflex. Persian snapped at him again. He withdrew his hand and bit his lip. At least he had gotten this far… But the reasons were beginning to pile up more steadily. "So you've been bringing all the money here? And no one noticed, because it's all under the snow, isn't it? You're really clever."

Persian bristled. Wearily, it tried to find a lack of honesty in his words, but the confused look on its face proved that it did not register anything sinister. Spark smiled at that.

"I mean… I think I understand now," Spark said. Hands found their way into his pockets. It was warm, and he idly wondered just how warm Persian was under its fur. "I don't… I don't understand your pain, Persian. I never had anyone that I've lost. But… I realized you were sad. And I don't like it when humans, or Pokemon, are sad."

Persian turned its head. It looked into dim starlight.

"But… I don't think your trainer would want you to steal from people, or hurt them," Spark pointed out, voice firm on this. He had to make his stance on that clear. "Can I do anything to help you? I'm not very good at these kinds of things… and I always mess up… but I want to make you happy. It's not fun to be alone like this, Persian."

Spark scooted closer. No movement. He crouched down next to all the money Persian had gathered. Picking up his wallet, he checked—every bill and cent was accounted for.

"But why did you steal money?" Backtracking, he thought.

What would anyone buy anything for? It was obvious… and the holiday season was in full-swing. Spark did not know if it was the holiday spirit, or just correlated naturally with something else. Did Pokemon like the holidays?

It could be helplessness. Or maybe the Persian wanted to buy a present for someone who would never receive it.

"We'll have to return all this." Apprehensive, Spark looked up. He heard another protesting growl, but he had a plan in the works. "It's okay. You'll let me if I help you, right?"

Silent. Strong. Now that he was so close Spark could see numerous bruises and bumps all over the Persian's body, as if it might have had an arduous and grand journey.

Despite his observation, Persian nodded the slightest bit.

Ah, so they were getting somewhere. Finally.

Spark stood to his feet. He knew what he had to do. "Wait here, okay? I'll come back, Persian. You can count on me!"

Spark once again trudged through the shrubbery back to town. He went slower this time, but he hurried to not keep the Persian, a feeling of urgency welling in his chest.

The flower van came into sight. One door was shut, and the other about to be shut with Rei's hand on the handle. It glanced over at Spark as he neared and waved a hand.

"Hey, Spark," Rei called. "Sorry, I'm closing up, but if you want to talk I can invite your parents to dinner at—"

Spark unclasped his wallet. He pulled out every bill and coin he owned out of it and placed it all in his palms. One night, all of this money would have bought him a delicious dinner. Right now, it would buy him a memory.

"What kind of flowers can I buy for this much?" 

* * *

Rei had given him a discount. He was grateful for that, really, because he assumed that his allowance was much less than Rei would normally take. But… Spark had not exchanged information. At least, Spark had not explain anything to Rei or anyone else yet. Explanation could wait, because Persian was waiting for his return.

Spark gripped onto a small bouquet of pink carnations. Rei had not known specifically, but he had guessed it would work in any case good or sad in meaning, so Spark had taken it and promised to see him the next day.

Persian glanced up at him. Mildly surprised, the gem on its head shone under the dim moonlight. Spark knelt down.

"Can I put this here, Persian?"

Even in the snow, the carnations looked like they belonged, like a bundle of innocence and remembrance. Spark watched it for a moment, and Persian sniffed it.

"I heard that no one knows where you came from," Spark said. "Is that true? Did you come from a long way away?"

Persian's tail tapped the snow rhythmically.

"Okay." In that case, He had thought a lot about this over the past few days. Even in kid's shows, Pokemon returning after a long time were not uncommon. So that meant… "I think… I may be wrong, but I noticed you're a bit beaten up yourself. Did you get separated from your trainer? And you finally found them here?"

Persian's tail stopped thumping. It looked up. It pawed at the gravestone under its head and rested its head there.

Spark smiled despite that. To anyone else, that really would not have been an answer. But he could hear it—the Persian's need to stay close to its trainer even now. He reached out to Persian, slowly but surely, and patted it on the head. The Persian tensed but it did not hurt him.

"I hope one day I can find a Pokemon as loyal as you are," Spark said wistfully. He lightly scratched its ears. Persian purred, and Spark felt a rush of amazement dash through his chest. He had done that. He had made Persian a little less stressed, unset. "Can I sit here with you for a while?"

Persian did not object to this, either. Spark sat next its side. The snow was cold, and the world bleak and dark even in the early evening hours. He would have to go back to the hotel soon so his parents would not look for him. But for the moment, he was okay here with this Persian under the twinkling stars and a new emotion he just now understood.

Love. That was why the Persian had done so many bad things. It had traveled from a faraway. Spark may never know the full story, or why the Persian was separated in the first place, but all Spark could hope for was peace.

Because it had been the Persian's instinct to come here and say goodbye for one final time. It may have traveled for days to years for all Spark could tell. And in the end, it may not matter anymore, but one thing had compelled the Persian's actions to its current grief for its trainer.

Instinct stretched across the tides of time.


End file.
